Castle (6 Days of Christmas 4)
by Hello Supernova
Summary: #4 of my '6 Days of Christmas' series! It's Christmas in 221B Baker Street, but Sherlock is alone this year. His new friend comes over to give him his Christmas present. One-Shot from my Victoria Charles series. Merry Christmas!


Castle

Victoria Charles knocked on the door of 221 Baker Street, her deep red trench coat swaying in the winter breeze. Even by taking a quick glance at her surroundings, she could deduce the mundane thoughts of the simple-minded beings around her. Most of them were thinking about Christmas, present-shopping and party-planning. She scoffed at how obvious they all were.

Instead of Mrs Hudson opening the door like she would for anyone else, Sherlock Holmes came down to let her in himself, and Victoria knew exactly why. He didn't want Mrs Hudson to think they were in any way involved, and she didn't blame him. The questions of people who didn't function like the two of them were often irritating and even mind-numbing.

"Good evening, Victoria," Sherlock greeted airily as he lead her up the stairs, "What brings you here?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know precisely why I'm here. Don't be boring," She scolded absently as she deduced Sherlock's well-being from the state of his flat. Messy as usual, but his experiments littered the kitchen table and books were strewn across the living room floor. He'd been keeping busy, then- no time for indulging in bad habits.

Over the past few months, Victoria and Sherlock had come to an understanding. They were friends, in a sense. They looked after each other and comforted one another in ways that others simply weren't capable of.

And, even though Sherlock's heartbeat still raised a little every time she got too close to her, he had no doubt that Victoria was building him up to be the man he once was- the high-functioning sociopath.

John's suicide had left him in shambles, a pitiful mess of human emotions that made him want to rip his dark hair from its roots. Instead of giving him fake condolences or trying to cheer him up like all his other _friends_ did, Victoria gave him a role model. A constant reminder of what he once was.

She was undoubtedly better than he had ever been, though he would never admit it. He supposed it had something to do with a woman's intuition or the meaningless sex she claimed helped her think, and cursed his anatomy often for making his gender thick-skulled fighters and for giving him the more clingy gender to work with.

"Yes, Mother," He said blandly, but the sparkle in his eyes let Victoria know that he thoroughly amused.

She took off her coat and let herself fall onto Sherlock's armchair, forcing the consulting detective to move books off of John's- she didn't miss his pained look when its fabric was actually visible again- and sit down on it.

"How've you been?" He asked, not wanting to be in silence when he was sitting in the very chair that still smelled faintly of John- his best friend, his blogger.

"Marvelous," She said sarcastically. "The FBI needed my assistance on a case so I flew out again. They didn't notice the wife's earrings. Real diamonds- obviously a lover."

Victoria knew she was only humouring Sherlock, that he already knew all of this. He could deduce where she had been from the state of her eyes- jet lag- and the case she'd solved had been on the news. Not that Sherlock would have seen it there, but he would have heard the detectives at the Yard chatter about it.

"What a waste of time. You spent eighteen hours total on a plane to do five minutes of work," He stated.

"I wasn't just there for the case. I had... private business there," She said, and Sherlock turned his eyes from a rather interesting spot on the ceiling to the woman herself.

She was being vague. Over the time they'd spent together, he'd noticed that this wasn't a rare occurrence, but he had trouble figuring out what she was hiding. Like he constantly complained about to his skull when he was alone- Victoria Charles was above him. She had perfected what he had almost mastered, before John came knocking down his castle doors.

"What business?" He asked bluntly, noticing the silent praise in her eyes. He was becoming his old self again. John would be turning in his grave.

Sherlock winced at the painful thought, and the praise disappeared from Victoria's eyes, because she knew everything about him and she could always tell when John was on his mind. Her eyes turned blank again, but the cold note soothed the burns John had left on his heart and brain.

"Nice try, dear," She remarked. "Your only option is to deduce it."

He growled, and even the woman who was seemingly made of stone bristled at the primal sound. That wasn't like Sherlock at all. "You know very well that I... I _can't_," He whispered, almost ashamed.

In an instant, Victoria stood before him, her hands resting on his armchair as she leveled her face with his. "Try, Sherlock," She murmured, pretending not to notice how his body reacted to her proximity.

Nonetheless, the gears in his mind started turning as he began to pick up little things. He was aware that he was only seeing them because Victoria allowed him to, but he used to opportunity anyway.

"You were visiting old friends," He concluded triumphantly, and she smiled at his pleased expression, giving his a chaste kiss on the cheek before turning and swiftly putting on her coat again.

"You've still got it, Sherlock," She promised. "Merry Christmas."

With that, she was gone, and Sherlock quickly checked his pulse and looked in the mirror. Heart rate elevated, cheeks flushed.

Victoria Charles was rebuilding his castle, but she was building on top of herself as the foundation, seeping into every crack in the stones. He knew she's be a very difficult habit to shake, and maybe, he didn't even want to.

* * *

AN: This chapter was... interesting to write. I think a lot of people will be unhappy with Sherlock seeming inferior and Victoria being the opposite, but I hope I kind of was able to portray their relationship.

Sherlock is broken, I used the castle metaphor quite fittingly. Before John, he was almost a palace, but John came and knocked it all down, made him more human and soft. I'm not implying any romantic ties, but you can't tell me that John wasn't Sherlock's beacon of humanity. And then John dies and Sherlock is left with all these emotions and care he had for John and he has no idea what to do with them, how to channel them, so he's a mess, really. I did imply substance abuse for a reason.

And Victoria is often cold towards him, which I think most people are going to be unhappy at, but I feel like that's what this version of Sherlock needs. Someone to lead him back to all his former glory, to... well, rebuild his castle. This also may or may not be fueled by the fact that I absolutely loathe sympathy. I wouldn't want to be coddled, I'd rather have someone to show me what I need to do to get back to being who I was before.

I'm sorry, I have a lot of feels about this series. I may have done something very bad in writing it.

Oh! And if you didn't know, this is a one-shot from my Victoria Charles series, it's Sherlock fan-fiction, obviously. You may want to read it to find out who Victoria is and why exactly John is dead, heh.

Merry Christmas!

- Nova


End file.
